


The Arrow

by redriverboatgambler



Series: Outlander Arrowverse [1]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redriverboatgambler/pseuds/redriverboatgambler
Summary: Doctor Claire Beauchamp knew life wouldn't be easy in a crime-ridden Inverness. She is a doctor, though, and wants to help however she can. She just didn't think it'd involve some dude in green leather shooting arrows at corrupt people. Who the heck still uses a bow and arrow as primary weapons anyway?A comic book/modern/dystopian AU.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Outlander Arrowverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565560
Comments: 54
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this now to make myself keep writing it. I've got an outline for where I want this to go, just need to actually put words to paper, apparently. This is based off my current favorite TV show, Arrow. There will be similarities, of course, but it won't be the exact same. I'm taking a lot of liberties with the geography of Inverness, but it's my fanfic so I can make it bigger and worse as I like. Right? Anyway, this is also inspired by my favorite season one rewrite of Arrow that you can find on ao3 called Technical Assistance by thatmasquedgirl. If you're an arrow/olicity fan and haven't read that fic, you should go do so. Uuhh, also, this is my first fic in a long time. I'd appreciate a beta reader, if anyone's got the time.

I stepped into the on-call room, hoping to rest my eyes, only to find a small gathering of nurses talking rather loudly. They kept talking about a patient who arrived earlier that night. At the time I was in the middle of a surgery to fuse a man’s spine. Not my usual type of surgery, but the main surgeon needed help and the other neurosurgeon was on leave. 

“I canna believe they found him after all this time! And that he’s being seen here and not in London!” one of the nurses said. 

“Have ye talked to Sarah, yet? She says he is fit. Like, apparently being stuck on a deserted island isn’t all that bad if you come back with those muscles,” another nurse absolutely giggled.

I saw Geillis there among them and waved her over to my cot in the corner. At a lower volume, one more considerate for those who used the room for naps on long shifts, I asked Geillis what was going on.

“Have ye not heard about the lost Fraser heir, Dr. Beauchamp?” Geillis gasped, then leaned closer to me, keeping her voice low as well. “I’d have thought it was news even in Oxfordshire. The Fraser family basically owns Broch Mordha, a village not too far from here. They have an estate outside the village. He and his da were thought dead when their vessel capsized five years ago. Did you really not hear about it? It was the prime topic on BBC news for months!"

I really had no recollection, but then again five years ago I was in my first year of residency. I didn’t really recollect much about anything that first year, except for Uncle Lamb passing. “So, they found him and brought him home. His family must be relieved. I couldn’t imagine, though being relieved to have one family member back, but then be confirmed the other is lost.”

“Oh, aye, tis a sad thought that. But from what I heard he’s basically only coming home to his sister. His mother passed shortly after he and his dad were lost. But anyway, he’s here at our hospital. Like Mary said, I am surprised he wasn’t treated in London, first thing. Or that he’s here and not Raigmore.”

“Perhaps his sister is here?” I certainly would have preferred to be sent to the city where the last of my family was.

“Oh, aye, likely. She took over the business. She’s been doing a bonny job of it, too. I’m not much for following business, but I do follow badass women and she’s apparently a force to be reckoned with – oaah my God! What if she’s here in this building right now? I could potentially meet one of the top business women in the UK!”

“Geillis! This poor family has been through enough. They do not need a gaggle of nurses flocking around them to gawk.” I raised my voice a bit so the other nurses, who had continued to talk about the man’s acquired muscle, could hear me as well. “We are the medical professionals here, set to do our work without judgment, or leering.”

“Yer right, Claire. Now’s no' the time. I need to get back,” she said, getting up. She raised her eyebrows at the other nurses. “We all do. Even on a slow night. Get some rest, Claire.”

One of the nurses protested, “But my break just started!”

“And ye can take it in the break room or elsewhere. Let the surgeon get a wee kip!”

They all shuffled out, thankfully. I kept my pager by my head so any notification would make me spring up. Despite it being a slow night, I knew such tranquility could never be promised to last in our city. Not in those days.

>>----------->

“The poor lad isna back for a week and already he’s been taken by criminals and held for ransom!” I heard our Head Nurse, Mrs Fitz, lament. “The poor family! I imagine his sister must be so distressed.”

“Well, the poor family can certainly afford a security detail, I’m sure,” Geillis chimed in. “Though I heard he said he was rescued by a hooded archer. Can ye believe that? But then I heard the Grant of Grant Properties was assaulted by a hooded archer.”

I came around the corner with chart in hand to find the two nurses at the computer, two news articles pulled up. My interest was piqued, despite trying not to be. “An archer? What on earth are you talking about?”

“Och, Doctor Beauchamp, you really don’t keep up with news, do you?” she chuckled. “Apparently some of the more well off in our city have been targeted by this hooded vigilante. Modern day Robin Hood, it would seem. Apparently, his first deed was rescuing one of the most well off in our city, save his five years on an island, of course.”

“What terrible luck, don’t ye think, Doctor?” Mrs Fitz put a hand on her heart.

“Indeed. Is that the same lad the nurses were talking about? The one treated here a few days ago?” I put the chart down to look at the news article pulled up on the screen. There was a picture of a smirking ginger fellow with blue eyes. He looked young and held himself with the arrogance of someone who knew he was handsome and used it to his advantage.

“Aye, the verra same.”

“The lad was a rake before he left,” Mrs. Fitz said, nodding at the picture. “But according my cousin, who is their housekeeper, he was a sweet boy. Even when he was a teenager, he didn’t cross her, despite the trouble he got into everywhere else. Still, no one deserves five years on an island and a dead father in an awful storm. Oh, God rest Mr. Fraser’s soul. He was a good man.”

She crossed herself.

I didn’t have much opinion on the matter of the Fraser family except the basic sympathy for what they went through. I truly didn’t know much about this city or the wealthy families that seemed to occupy the citizens’ gossip trades. I scanned through the article about the rogue archer. “This… is this our new reality?”  
Geillis snorted. “It appears so. Guess we will have to be prepared to treat more arrow wounds.”

She paused in thought, then said, “If he’s really targeting the hyper rich, then we may not see them. Those families use Raigmore Hospital. I doubt they’d deign to set foot here this close to the tracks.”

I suspected she had little to no sympathy for the vigilante’s targets. I couldn’t hold that against her, considering the state of the city. I handed the chart I was handling to Geillis. “Well, it’s the end of my shift today. When are you two off?”

“Oh, I should have been gone twenty minutes ago!” Mrs. Fitz gasped. She gathered her bag and wrapped her scarf around her neck. “I will see you two dearies next week. Enjoy yer three-day weekend!”

Without further ado, she made her way to the exit to the hospital car park. Geillis put the chart away and turned to me. “I’m off now, too, actually. Or whenever Laoghaire shows up. Could be now, could be in ten minutes. Hopefully not tomorrow morning, but the possibility is verra much there.”

“Well, she should be written up on that. Her own grandmother saw she’s not here yet. I was going to pop by the Ale House for a pint and whiskey. Would you like to join me? It’s rare we get the same night off.”

“Aye! I want to see three drink Claire. Get ye there and snag the bar corner. I’ll text ye as soon as Laoghaire gets here,” Geillis urged me to the exit. I was still in my green scrubs, not even having had the energy to change at the end of my shift. 

The pub was just around the corner from the hospital. The pub was exactly the kind of hole in the wall establishment I enjoyed from being raised by my nomadic uncle. I kept a death grip on my bag strap over my shoulder as I slipped into the pub and immediately grabbed my usual seat at the corner of the bar. I was barely sat down when my usual pint was put before me.

“Thank you, Jacob,” I greeted the handsome bartender with a smile.

“Nice t'see ye tonight, doctor,” Jacob returned the smile. “I regret I’m to bear ye bad news. He is here, tonight.”

I cringed and looked, subtly, where Jacob nodded behind him. Immediately I saw the upright posture of my least favorite fellow countryman. His back was to me, and I hoped he wouldn’t catch sight of me in the mirror along the back of the bar. Jacob seemed to be obstructing his view. “Don’t tell him I’m here. Maybe he won’t notice me. Did he bring a book to be engrossed in?”

“I saw him grading papers, and he finished that,” Jacob shook his head. “Ye may have to slip out the back way, if ye can brave the alley.”

“It would be worth the risk. Ugh, I was expecting Geillis to join. I may just text her and be off after my pint.” I was already pulling out a tenner. Jacob waved me off.  
“I know you’re good for it, doctor. Drink up and sneak away before the Professor kens yer here.”

Thankfully, I threw back the pint in record time. Jacob remained obstructing the man’s view as I slipped out the back through the kitchen. I finished texting Geillis, informing her why I had to leave at once, as I got into the dark alley. It certainly wasn’t the ideal place to walk through, especially that time of night. But I was desperate to avoid idle chatter with Professor Frank Randall. We had a brief romance that ended amicably but now he seemed over-eager to start again. I’d seen him more frequently at the pub these days than I had ever seen him even imbibe during our brief affair.

A chilly breeze blew through the alley, wrapped my jacket tighter around me, keeping a firm grip on my purse strap and made my way around the building back toward the street. The streetlight was barely in view when I heard a low, muffled – perhaps electronically altered? – Gaelic curse, then the crash of a dumpster lid.   
And me without my mace!

“Whoever you are, don’t come any closer! I have mace!” I bluffed with a wobbly voice. The very image of intimidation, Beauchamp! There was more commotion in the dumpster, I could make out a dark hand grasping the top, trying to pull the rest of its body over but struggling, and another pained and definitely altered Gaelic curse had my instincts kick in. “Are you injured?”

The struggle stopped. Then the altered voice spoke, “Aye. My arm. My shoulder.”

“I’m a doctor, I can help. Just, please don’t be a mugger,” I somewhat pled. I approached the dumpster but stopped short of heaving myself into it.

“I willna harm ye. You have my word,” he stated. His hand, gloved in dark green leather was raised above the edge of the dumpster. I would have asked to see both but I suspected the other must be immobile. 

I grabbed the edge of the dumpster, with a small jump I heaved myself over in the most graceless way. “Make room!”

I landed on my bum to find a hooded figure hunched above me. Despite the green actual leather jacket he donned, I could immediately tell he had a dislocated shoulder by the angle of his left arm. His labored breathing made me think he may have another injury as well. He kept his head angled so I wouldn’t be able to see his face, but the lighting was nearly non-existent to make out his face anyway. 

“JESUS H ROOSEVELT CHRIST,” I gasped. I scrambled up, staying to the other side of the dumpster as best I could. “This is not what I was expecting when I decided to help a random stranger in the dumpster. But now I’m realizing, I should not have set any in the first place.”

I heard him snort – a laugh? Did I make the rogue Robin Hood laugh in a dumpster? I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. I told him I would help, so I squared up and got down to business.

“Your arm, I need to set it,” I explained. I groped around me, seeing if there was anything sturdy enough to brace himself on. Seemed it would have to be the dumpster wall. I took a cautious, uneven step toward him. He backed to the wall, as if I were the dangerous mad man going around town arrowing people. “I’m going to have to touch you to set your shoulder. So, best to it, my lad, take off your jacket so I can be sure of my job.”

There was another snort. I blushed.

“I mean, you don’t have to take it all the way off,” I pressed on. “Just that arm. I can help.”

He stared at me, I assumed. I still couldn’t see his face. I was slightly surprised how his simple hood was so effective at concealing his identity. Finally, he nodded and pulled down his zipper. He wore a black under shirt, which felt damp as I helped pull the left sleeve off. Certainly, there was sweat, but I had a feeling there was some blood mixed there.

“Do you have any other injuries? How do you plan to get back to wherever you go dressed like this?” I couldn’t stop the litany of questions.

His modulated voice grumbled his answers, “I have a partner. He’s on his way. I was grazed by a bullet, but I know it’s no' serious. Set the shoulder. I’ll help ye back out of this bin and not bother ye again.”

I set to work on popping his arm back in place. He didn’t even let out a slight whimper of pain at the worst part. Awkwardly, I got his arm back in his jacket, then held his arm at the right angle to keep it stable. “You’ll need to strap and keep it that way for a few days. As your doctor, I’m advising against any further reckless vigilante activity until you can move the arm without soreness. Tylenol and warm compresses.”

Suddenly, he had me on my back, hand over my mouth. I had a moment of panic before he whispered, “Someone’s in the alley. My partner should still be five minutes out. Stay quiet.”

With one hand, he carefully pulled some bags on top of us to hide us. His body covered mine, keeping me concealed. I could then hear rough, unfriendly voices and the heavy thud of boots stomping down the alley.

“I know I got him! He couldn’t have gone far,” one voice griped. 

“You didna hit him. Ye can barely keep your grouping together at the range. Ye just shoot all o'er the place. He’s already disappeared, the devil!”

“Fuck. Boss isna goin tae be happy ‘bout this. Aye, let’s go.” 

The voices and boots receded down the alley. After a few more silent moments, the vigilante moved off of me, then held out his good hand to help me up. I was still too shaken to say anything just yet.

“I’m sorry, sa-" he stopped himself. “I thank ye, truly. I’m sorry ye put yerself in danger. I can help ye out o' here. But I’d like, verra much, to have my partner escort ye to the safer part of the street.”

“I’m a doctor. I made an oath.”

There was a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out a phone and then made an obvious whistling signal. Over the edge of the dumpster popped a bearded face wearing a dark cap pulled low over his brow. The vigilante spoke to his partner in Gaelic. It seemed to be a tense exchange but ended with the newcomer offering me his hand to pull me over the edge.

“Alright lass, no names, no seeing my face,” he said gruffly. The vigilante rebuked him Gaelic. The man made a Scottish noise, shook his head, then guided me towards the street, opposite of where I thought I heard those two from before went. “I’ll walk ye to the street. There’s a pub there, ye can call a cab. I’d thank ye to not call the police.”

“First, he mentioned being grazed by a bullet, but I didn’t get to see to it. Though that’s probably for the better. A dumpster is no place to be treating bullet wounds. Now, go help him out of that thing so he doesn’t ruin his shoulder, and I won’t call the police!” He made a similar snort of amusement then turned back into the impossibly dark alley. 

My apartment was only a few blocks, but worry over those two hunting my erstwhile patient had me walking back to the pub to call a cab. I didn’t even bother to see if Frank was still there, but even getting stuck in an inane one-sided conversation with him was better than running into those two goons looking for the archer. I couldn’t answer Jacob’s questioning look just then. My hands were shaky. Thankfully, the full weight of what just happened didn’t hit me until I was safe in my apartment.

_Holy fuck_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're not familiar, Oliver Queen started his journey on Arrow as Total Douche.
> 
> *spoilers for Arrow show ahead*
> 
> He cheated on his longtime girlfriend with her sister. I hate s1 of arrow for trying to have us root for that disaster to get back together. Jamie, in this story will be a douche, but not at that level. Felicity helped save that show, shipwise, and Oliver was a big dumb pine tree for a lot of it. Jamie will also be a big dumb pine tree, but I dont plan to draw it out too much. And I'll probably mix some season 2 scenes with s1 for this story. No idea when I'll update. Hope you like it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Claire fails to distract herself from thinking about what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos and comments. I am terrible at replying, in general. The only threads I really reply to are for my DND ca,paigns to confirm attendance and whose gonna bring what (I always supply the beer, of course.) Anyway, my posting strategy will be to not post a chapter until I'm started on the next to kee up motivation.

The first day of my three-day weekend was spent wondering if the previous night was real. The stench on my clothes, sadly, proved it true. Geillis had texted me, wanting to go out for a drink at the Ale house. I wasn’t yet sure if I wanted to ever step out of my apartment so left her inquiry unanswered. 

I decided to spend the day reading up on all the articles about the vigilante. The local news sites had a virtual cornucopia of articles about the mysterious hooded archer. Some were very derisive, some slightly admiring, and a few harshly criticizing him for not targeting the petty criminals. While he seemed to focus on well-known wealthy members of the city’s elite that were known to be corrupt yet untouchable, those few articles bemoaned his lack of going after the criminals directly making the streets unsafe. I read plenty in these articles on the nuance of criminality and socioeconomic causes of it.

I closed my laptop with a slight headache later in the afternoon. While I couldn’t fully agree with his methods - he had killed some people in his efforts to go after the corrupt – I couldn’t help but feel he was trying to do some good in his way. And what I felt the previous night, when he was on top of me, while those two men were looking for him… I had felt safe. Despite that first moment of panic when I didn’t know what was going on, when I realized what he was doing I felt safe. The safest I had felt in all my time in this city. I knew if they had discovered us, he would have done his best to fight them off and see me safe. At his core, I felt, he wasn’t an evil person. 

I made myself a bit chamomile tea, but I knew I needed to do something to get my mind off everything. Only one person could really help me with that, so I picked up my phone and responded to Geillis.

My phone rang barely a half minute after I sent my text.

“Claire, good to hear from ye, finally!” 

“I wanted a quiet day off, and honestly thought I’d want a quiet night in, too,” I explained. “But it seems I need a distraction. Would you like to distract?”

“What do you need a distraction from?”

“If I wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t need a distraction. Just not yet, ok?”

“Aye, ok, Claire. I see how it is. When you’re ready. Now then, to Ale House? Say one hour? I can go scout first, make sure the Professor isn’t there.”

"I’d appreciate that, Geil. I’m taking a cab. Please do the same,” I said, concern for her safety seeped in my voice.

“Oh, Claire it’s only a few blocks just the other side of the pub as yours! Itd be silly-"

“Please, Geillis.”

My tone must have been more desperate. She relented, “Okay, aye, I will, Claire. Are you ok?”

“I will be when I see you. I promise. See you in an hour.”

>>---->

Geillis was waiting for me at our usual corner, both our drinks waiting in front of her. I waved at Jacob as I passed by and joined her. She smiled and pushed my pint towards me, I drained half of it in greeting.

“Whoa, there, Claire. Did you eat first? You seem rattled,” she said.

I nodded. I had eaten a light lunch at least. I knew I should probably eat something before continuing. “It was interesting night last night.”

“Jacob said _he_ was here last night. Didn’t think he’d have you so rattled but he isna here tonight. Let’s have a bite? I got the specials here,” she waved the specials paper. 

As I looked over the specials, the bar began to get more packed. Jacob came up to grab my order before he would be too distracted. After letting him know my order I asked, “Is there some event going on for it to be gaining a crowd?”

“Aye! A last-minute affair, as the newly restored Fraser heir called us an hour ago to drop in. His Da knew Billy,” he explained, Billy owned the Ale House. “Word got out immediately, of course. I’m sure that’s due to Becca.”

After that I barely saw Jacob. The bartenders were incredibly busy, even calling in others to deal with the volume of patrons. I would usually consider it too busy to stick around, but I nursed my drink with Geillis anyway. She kept eyeing me, trying to figure what had me rattled. I knew I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, so decided for part of it. After a long sip, I set my pint down, sighed, and leaned into her for a bit more privacy. “I saw two men in the alley last night as I made my escape to avoid Frank. They were carrying some rather heavy-duty fire power, and looking for someone.”

Geillis nearly choked on her drink, having a coughing fit. Before she got a chance to respond, there was a cacophony of cheers and applause as someone entered the Ale House. Apparently, the Fraser heir had arrived.

I turned to glance briefly at the swarm around a tall, red haired man with his arm in a sling. There was a chorus of concern for his injury. Two men were either side of him, friends I had guessed. One slapped him heartily on his good shoulder, said something to him, then left off to the other side of the bar where the managers usually were. The other helped him navigate the crowd, keeping between his bad arm and the crowd, heading to the bar where Jacob immediately went to serve them. Three shots were laid out for them, and his crowd guide called for silence. The ginger stood up on a chair pulled from a low table and raised his glass.

“To cheating death!” he cheered. His other friend made it back to them and his friends took the other shots. Together they all downed the liquor like a frat party; the crowd cheered. He shouted above the crowd, “I missed tequila!”

Suddenly the music changed from a top 40s alt-rock station to what seemed like a club scene, the gathering around him erupted in even louder cheers than before. He stepped down from his perch and rejoined his mates. 

“He seems to be getting back into his old swing of things in no time,” Geillis pulled my attention back to her. The food was out in front of us, but with the change in the atmosphere of the pub, I wasn’t so much in the mood to eat. Leaning closer, Geillis had to nearly shout, “Tell me everything about what happened! I assume they didn’t see you! And who do you think they were looking for?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, picking at my side salad. “I hid behind the dumpster. They weren’t very thorough in their search, thankfully, as I didn’t have my mace.”

“Claire, that could have easily gone a much, much worse way. I canna believe ye would even want to come out tonight! Where is your mace now? You gotta stay safe, Claire!”

The last bit was near a scream when there was a moment of silence between songs. People were looking over at us.

“Aye, lass, she’s right, ye must stay safe.”

Geillis's eyes widened, looking just beyond me. I turned to see the Fraser heir standing just left of us. 

He flashed a closed lip smile at me, holding out his right hand. “James Fraser, madam.”

I glanced over at Geillis, completely dumbfounded by his presence. His eyes darted to Geillis, same smile plastered on his face but less genuine. Geillis cleared her throat, her hand darting forward to take his and shake firmly, “Geillis Duncan. This is _Doctor_ Claire Beauchamp. Pleased to make your acquaintance. What happened to your arm?”

He pulled his hand back to rub his left shoulder lightly. With a smirk he explained, “Oh, this? An old sports injury acting up. Had to bind it for a bit.”

“Oh? What sport then?” Geillis asked with a flutter of her eyelashes. I turned back to her, rolling my eyes at her. She ignored me. “Football? Rugby? Maybe even cricket?”

“Hockey, actually.”

“Field hockey?”

“Ice hockey.”

I turned back to him at that. “Ice hockey? That’s an unusual sport to play here.”

His eyes were fixed on me. He shrugged his right arm. “I ken. I tried to play it to woo a French-Canadian tourist who had a thing for ice hockey players. I got boarded by another French-Canadian who was there to help develop players in the amateur Scottish leagues. He ended up with the lass, but I ended up with a love and healthy respect for ice hockey.”

He glanced down, shifting foot to foot imperceptibly, I noticed his thumb and forefinger rubbing against each other – a nervous tick?

“I'm sorry to have interrupted your conversation. Couldn’t help but be near deafened by your friend yelling about safety. I hope you haven’t had some experience lately to have to be reminded.”

“Oh, aye, she needs reminding,” Geillis grumbled. “Being in an alley, seeing two dangerous looking lads, and she without her mace! God, Claire, I could strangle you! Do you have it now?”

Before I could respond, James laid his hand on my shoulder, genuine concern in his eyes. “Doctor Beauchamp, you must have been terrified!”

I recalled immediately how I had felt genuinely safe in that dumpster with him on top of me. “I was and am, a little shaken, of course. I was well hidden, though. I was safe.”

James looked like he was about to say something but then he pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. “Oh, excuse me, ladies. I hate to be rude, but I must take this. Uh, there’s still that alcove by the back door, right?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Nice to meet you, Mister Fraser. Perhaps, avoid actually going into the alley though,” I said, stepping closer to the bar and Geillis to give him way through the throng of people. He nodded and headed towards the rear exit.

“Do you think his sister is here? I meant to ask,” Geillis said, looking around the crowd.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I was thinking of leaving now, anyway. It’s much too crowded and loud for my taste, today. I understand the occasion, of course, but we can go back to my flat.”

“Aye, sounds good, and you can tell me more of what happened,” she nodded, trying to wave down Jacob to get our tabs. He dropped those off promptly, and closed us out. Before we could make our way out of the pub, a storm of police came in, cutting off the music and blocking the exits.

“I do apologize, ladies and gentleman, but I am going to require everybody stay put. I am Detective chief Inspector Grey. There has been an incident nearby involving the Hood, and he was sighted headed this way. Please do not panic, but we will be searching the premises immediately to apprehend this criminal.” DCI Grey was dressed in his formal uniform, speaking with a crisp English accent. The crowd groaned in discontent, but there didn’t seem to be a sense of panic despite mention of the vigilante.

I, however, did feel a flair of panic. I gave that hooded man explicit instructions to _refrain_ from any further reckless vigilante activity while recovering. He had a fucking bullet wound somewhere, for fucks sake! If he were there and I got to him first, he would wish I hadn’t. My fists clenched at the idea, in anger and worry.

“Well, now, this night just keeps getting more interesting,” Geillis whispered to me. “If he is here, I might just go ahead, shake his hand, and thank him for taking on the worst in our city. I wonder who he took on tonight?”

“I think you should probably keep your voice even lower; they may not appreciate the sentiment.” I nodded toward a nearby officer. Suddenly, James appeared by us, moving toward the DCI.

“I’m back for barely half a month and already you’re crashing my parties, again, Hal,” he said. His voice and posture held an arrogance that was miles away from what he was when talking with us. “John, did you invite your brother?”

One of the men he entered with sidled up next to him, looking mildly embarrassed though I wasn’t sure if it was due to his brother or his friend. “Hal, certainly the vigilante wouldn’t come here, it’s too conspicuous.”

Maybe both by look of utter disdain DCI Grey gave to James. “John, it’s a loud, near riotous party, it’s the perfect place to blend into, after changing into civvies, of course. We will be doing a thorough search, by authority of the Crown, and in line with the recently passed Anti-Vigilante ordinance established by the Highland Council.”

“Oh, aye, the Highland Council seated by a bunch of sassenachs and their sympathizers?” Geillis said, loudly. There was a rush of laughter through the crowd. I elbowed her.

DCI Grey glanced in our direction but Geillis was obscured by me and the crowd. He turned back to his brother and James. “I work by the proper elected authorities of the area and the crown. I realized you may want to celebrate your friends return to the living, Johnny, and you may carry on as we conduct our search. Where is the manager of the establishment?”

His brother took him back to the other end of the bar. James glanced in our direction, then followed them. “Ye best make this quick, Hal! I’m renting the place by the hour!”

Thirty minutes later, there was no sign of the archer, and Geillis and I were finally able to call a cab. 

“Doctor Beauchamp!” James shouted from the entrance. I paused by the open door of the cab, Geillis already inside. He hurried over. “Doctor Beauchamp, I’m sorry for the interruption earlier. I just wanted to be sure you’d be making it home safe, with the siting of that hooded maniac and what you experienced last night.”

°Oh, thank you, Mister Fraser,” I was a taken aback by his concern for someone he’d barely met. “Geillis and I are about to head back to my flat just now. I’m only a few blocks away but we are taking cab for caution.”

"Aye, good. And please, Doctor Beauchamp, call me Jamie.” He stuck his hand out. I took it, shocked by the heat he emanated in contrast to cold night air. It felt like holding my hand over a flame, heat rushing up my arm.

“Then call me Claire, Jamie. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night,” I said, reluctantly pulling my hand back. I got into the cab; he closed the door for me. Geillis was staring at me, wide-eyed, as the cab drove off. “What?”

“You should have got his number! God, Claire, you can be really dense for a doctor!”

_What_ _??_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not much of a jock, at all. But I do like sports. However, there is only one sport that I love above all. A sport that takes guts, stamina, pugnacity, and fisticuffs: hockey! So, while plenty of people will have Jamie play a sensible UK appropriate sport, I had to insert my favorite. There is a professional league in Scotland, and the UK in general, but they aren't exactly NHL caliber. It needs to get more popular there, but I do love watching UK youtubers react to hockey videos.
> 
> Thanks again for your comments and kudos! I will try to start replying, or you can go bug me on tumblr (nealnathanielyote). I also want to let you know, I plan to do side stories for this fic that will be 3rd person-limited from Jamie's POV. I already have one planned, but they will not drop until we see Claire go through that experience, or at least we have journeyed with her already through when the side story takes place. If that makes sense.
> 
> Btw, here can I find a beta reader?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. I got a beta reader, the wonderful Janmarie. 
> 
> I ended up reaching this story arc sooner than expected, but it worked out the way it did organically. I'm pretty happy with it, hope you like it!

You may think that after spending 90% of my shifts on my feet, I’d want to just stay on the couch on my days off. And I do! But despite wanting to stay in the warmth of my comforter, especially in the November chill, I managed to make my way to a nearby park for a brisk walk just after lunch. It was the last day of my glorious, tumultuous three-day weekend. I was bundled up in my warmest coat, walking the path in the small park. A crisp breeze had me keeping my scarf tightly pulled around the lower half of my face. I knew the path by heart, so wasn’t really looking where I was going and walked straight into a solid body. In shock, and an over correction, I ended up falling back onto the path.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” my voice was muffled by the scarf. 

“Don’t apologize, Claire,” I heard Jamie’s voice, and looked behind the man I walked into. He stepped over to me, gloved hand stretched out to help me up, which I took gladly. He helped me up with ease. Are ye alright, Claire? I’m sorry, here we are standing stock still on the path like louts. This is my godfather, Murtagh.”

My eyes went back to Murtagh. He turned to me, for a flash his eyes widened then his face was completely stoic. He nodded in greeting, stepping to the side, slightly off the path. “No, nonsense. I was just taking my daily walk and not paying attention to the path. Not a lot of people out even on a mild day like this.”

“Didn’t your friend just scold you the other night for not taking the proper precautions?” He shook his head, with a slight chuckle. “Even in the middle of the day, I know this isn’t the best area to take a walk in.”

“Oh? Then what are you doing here, Jamie? You’re the one who was most recently kidnapped, according to the Gazette.” I wasn’t going to stand for being told what to do by anyone. “I’m sorry! That was rude of me, to bring up your abduction in such a way! I can’t even imagine what your ordeal was like.”

“Aye, no worries about your comment, Claire,” he waved me off. “That hooded maniac saved me pretty quickly.”

“Perhaps the hood would come to my rescue should anything happen to me, and I am not that far from my building.” I pointed to the building on across the street. Certainly, it wasn’t the safest of parks, which I would absolutely avoid the minute twilight starts due to plenty of drug use. 

“I should hope he wouldn’t need to.” Jamie’s tone was hard. I looked up in to his stern face.

“I didn’t mean to sound flippant, Jamie.”

His face relaxed for a second, then a cheeky mask settled over his feature. Smirking, he said, “Aye, Claire, being flippant is my forte.”

I cocked my head at that line, sceptically. I glanced at Murtagh, who was shaking his head in exasperation. 

I turned then, about to say a terse goodbye when I stopped short at the sight of a slight, curly haired lad standing by the entrance of my building. I recognized him immediately, even with his back turned to me. There was no mistaking his blue hoodie. His appearance couldn’t be good news, so I ran straight toward him.

I barely glanced either way when racing across the street. My arms opened for him as I approached, shouting, “FERGUS!”

The scrawny teenager turned around, his almond shaped eyes red and glistening. He met me at the curb, his face in my shoulder as my arms wrapped around his shaking shoulders,

“Fergus! Oh, Fergus, what is the matter?” I gripped him tightly, running a hand over his curls. 

“She's dead,” came his muffled sob. “Six months, Madame Docteur! Six months – and... and!”

“Sshh, sshh,” I continued to run a hand over his curls, slightly swaying to hopefully soothe him. 

Fergus had a special place in my heart. He was the first patient I had when I moved to Inverness to finish my residency four years before. He had broken his arm fighting bullies who made fun of him and his mother for their French accents. He was a scrappy child. He determined that he must protect me as well as his mother as he recovered from his surgery. He was an impatient child, so I told him: “If you wish to ensure anyone’s safety, you _must_ follow my post-surgery instructions to the letter.”

_“If I do, then will I be able to keep mama and you safe as well?”_

_“When you have fully healed, there would be no one better to keep us safe_.” 

I had indulged him, but he had taken it seriously. 

“Claire.”

I startled slightly at Jamie’s voice, soft as it was. Fergus pulled from me slightly, still trembling put himself between the two of us.

“Jamie! Oh, I’m sorry.” I tried to subtly tug Fergus to my side. It wasn’t until the third tug at his sleeve that he acquiesced. I put a hand to Fergus's shoulders telling him, “Fergus, this James Fraser. I met him recently. Jamie, this is Fergus. Now Jamie, I don’t mean to be rude, but would you please give us a moment?”

After a slight acknowledgement from Jamie at the introduction (Fergus only continued to glare), Jamie agreed and turned around, taking a few steps away. I turned fully to Fergus.

“I am sorry, Fergus. Can you tell me what happened?”

Fergus was still glaring at Jamie, but finally turned to me and nodded. “She relapsed. This time it was a new drug. There was just a syringe with a ‘V' on it. It was completely empty when I found her." 

He ran his sleeve over his nose, re-gathering himself. 

“She was taken to your hospital. I went to find you, but Madame Fitz said you were off. I came here after she was declare-" he hiccupped.

I hugged him to me again. I murmured genuine platitudes, then asked, “Where are you staying, Fergus?”

He shrugged.

Resolutely, I told him, “You will stay here, at least tonight, or for as long as you need.”

I ushered him through the building entrance. He already had a key to my flat. “Go on up and I will be there in a minute. Ok?”

He nodded at me. He threw another hostile look at Jamie as he backed into the lift, maintaining it till the lift doors closed. I turned back to Jamie then.

“Claire,” he started before me, “I am sorry to interrupt, again. Ye just ran off, suddenly, hardly glancing at the traffic when crossing the street. I was worried. Who is the lad?”

I sighed. It wasn’t an easy story. “Fergus was a patient. It’s not the most ethical situation, but I knew his home life wasn’t an easy one as I became acquainted with him. He’s a smart lad though, and on his insistence, I didn’t go by the proper channels as I should have. But, in hope of keeping him from going down a dark path, I told him if things at home were too much, or if he just needed to eat, he was to come to my place. So, seeing him tonight, I knew he must have been going through a bad time.”

Jamie nodded at that, eyes slightly downcast. “I tried not to eavesdrop, but I did hear about someone overdosing.”

I nodded. “I have a feeling I know what it is.”

“What is it?”

“Vertigo. It’s a new drug to the streets of Inverness. At my hospital, we have had a few ODs but we haven’t any successful antidotes. It’s so frustrating. I wish I knew-" I paused suddenly. I realized I did know someone who could help. I hated myself for not thinking of it sooner. Shaking my head in irritation, I turned toward the building entrance, pulling open the door. I paused to say, “I am sorry again, Jamie. I really must go take care of the boy. He didn’t have the best home life, but she was his mother. And he is like my little brother. Goodbye for now.”

Jamie was standing there, a resolute look on his countenance even when the doors of the lift closed before me.

>>------->

After ensuring Fergus was asleep for the night (soft snoring, mouth slightly agape, curled up under his blankets facing the faux fire heating unit), I bundled up for the cold night and headed out. The cab took me deeper into the city, to an area I usually avoided, as did the police - the Glades. We stopped outside a boarded up old herb store. I told the driver I’d only be a few minutes, but he refused to wait outside and took off even as I barely closed the door.

I glanced around before pulling out the key he had given me years ago. I could only hope this was still the best way to reach him. He often changed his drop-offs and channels of communication. It took a bit of effort to open the heavy, old door. It was completely dark inside, but the smell was the same. I hadn’t stepped foot in this store since I was a teenager and the scents brought back the memory of the layout of the first floor. I couldn’t risk turning on a light source, even with the mostly boarded up windows.

I went around the counter and tapped on the wood panelled backing, finding the loose board entrance to the hidden room. When I was a teenager, he kept it stocked with the skulls of ancient beasts, along with relics of occultism. I reached out and felt the alter in the centre that used to display his copy of the Malleus Maleficarum (“Purely for amusement, _mon chère_. They were wrong about many things!”). It felt void of anything now, but it was where I was instructed to leave communication should I need him. I placed my plea for help there, folded in an envelope, unaddressed to anyone.

I called another cab, waiting by the front entrance, keeping an eye from a small sliver between the board and moulding on the front window. I thought I saw a figure across the road, but in a blink, it was gone. The cabbie pulled up and I rushed out, quickly locking the door behind me and slipping into the back of the cab. I barely had the door closed when we pulled away from the curb and jetted back to my complex. 

It was a waiting game at that point.

>>-------->

I stepped into my office near the end of my shift, carrying the last of my paper work. My mind was preoccupied with the influx of overdose patients today. Geillis had told me about them, as I was in surgery most of the day. 

_“You should be more aware of your environment, my friend_,” a feminine voice spoke in flawless French, with a chuckle at my startled yelp and fluttering of papers slipping from my grip. She gathered what papers fell to her side of the desk between us, putting them and a manila envelope before me. “_From Master Raymond_.”

“_Thank you, Delphine. How are you_?” I opened the envelope to find a mobile phone and another envelope.

_“I am well, Doctor. I wish we could catch up more at this time, but I must be going. But I believe we will be seeing each other more often, soon_!” She stood, kissed either of my cheeks with a warm smile. Before slipping out of my office, she said, _“Be well, my little lady, and stay safe_!”

She was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving only her lightly scented perfume. Delphine had to be at least a decade my senior, as she had been working with Master Raymond for as long as I’d known them both. She hadn’t looked a day older than I had last saw her, of course. She was always warm, yet ever mysterious. I most certainly still had a lady crush on her.

Paperwork temporarily forgotten, I pulled out the other envelope and read the letter.

_Madonna, it is so very pleasing to hear from you. I have, of course, kept track of your successes in Inverness. I am so very proud of you, as I know your late parents and uncle (God rest their souls) would be. _

_I also realize the growing dangers in your city, as they grow throughout the country. You risked a lot in a simple errand to my old shop, no doubt having gone at night! To ensure your safety in future endeavours to communicate, I have enclosed an encrypted phone, without a registered name. You may reach me via text. If there is an emergency, a call will be accepted. _

_On to the matter of your requests, I shall address the matter of guardianship first. _

_It is indeed a perilous time to be the child of an immigrant with no British father listed on the certificate. It was an easy matter to fabricate and file articles of guardianship. In the eyes of the crown, you are young Master Fergus's legal guardian. His quest to citizenship should be safe with your sponsorship. I do lament the passing of the young man's mother, and that brings me to your second request._

_The drug you described sounds very familiar. As you know, I have an enemy who goes by Le Comte St Germaine. He is a thoroughly evil character who develops dangerous drugs that tend to easily kill his customers. This drug seems the latest incarnation of Vertigo. He varies the recipes from city to city, so to aid you, I will need a sample of the blood of the victim with the vertigo in it, as well as a sample of the drug itself to ascertain its elements. This is a dangerous request to make of you, I apologize, Madonna. If you can’t get the latter, I hope you can get the former. I may be able to request Delphine to help acquire the drug, but I know she detests going into drug deals, even for matters as this. _

_Should you acquire one or both, send me a text. I will send someone to collect the items discreetly. Then I will return my findings to you as soon as they are found._

_Be well and safe, Madonna! I shall always be at your service._

_Sincerely,_

_Master Raymond_

_P.S. I have a feeling there may be another ally in your city for this endeavour. If you can find him, do not fear to ask for help._

I turned on the phone. It was a basic smart phone, though with any applications beyond text, calls and a private email app developed by Master Raymond himself. The phone background was black with a single green arrow pointing up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to just lift the name of the drug from Arrow, as well as the name of the worst part of Starling City. I stuck with Vertigo, mostly due to not wanting to come up with something else. Plus, the character in Arrow that makes the drug is called the Count. It just worked out perfectly. And I decided to stick with using The Glades, since in canon Claire and Jamie certainly didn't have a good experience in a glade, as much as they initially tried. Or just mark it down as laziness. This guy does not like cold weather and his mind shuts down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is quite the rule bender. Just bending all the rules, for the greater good, so it's ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to Janmarie for cleaning up my grammar and structure!

It had been a long night. I still had three hours left of my shift. My interns were gathered in their separate on-call room before the last rounds of the night. I took advantage of the lull to meet Delphine at the northwest wing off the hospital. The northwest wing had long been in disuse, left empty before Geillis and I joined the hospital. Dr. Abernathy informed me that funds had dwindled, so the previous Chief of Medicine closed the wing since it was closest to the worst part of the Glades. It seemed the perfect setting for a haunting. While I did not hold any beliefs in ghosts and spirits, most of my co-workers were superstitious, so I knew I was alone when I entered the dark hallway. 

The exit from that wing went out to a stoop, with a short stairway leading to a dark parking lot. The asphalt was cracked and weeds grew tall. The area was narrow; with a few outbuildings along the fence bordering the hospital lot and some tracks. Beyond the tracks lay one of the worst parts of the Glades. There was no lamplight, save the dim orange glow of the lights illuminating the tracks. 

“_A good evening to you, my little lady_,” Delphine greeted, pushing off from the stone railing, light glinting from her smile. “_You really must be more aware of your environment, my friend._”

I shrugged and shook my head, with a chuckle, “I don’t have night vision, Del. Anyway, I have the blood sample from the victim who was admitted a few days ago. There has been an influx of admitted ODs in the last few days. Before, it was just one every few days, even as much as a week and a half between.”

Delphine put the vials of Amelie’s blood into a wooden box, placing it into her messenger bag. “_If you can get us more blood samples, the variety will help Master Raymond gather more info, especially on what defines the point of an overdose for this new incarnation of Vertigo, in parts per deciliter. And perhaps, even a full recipe of it, depending how things are absorbed in the body. Of course, having a sample of the drug is best_.”

“I really do want to get a drug sample also,” I said. “He can certainly help, the quickest, but then we could send it off to another lab where they could hopefully synthesize a counter acting drug to prevent ODing, though the process would still be a long journey in bureaucracy. I wish I could find a way to get it. I will figure something out.”

Even in the dim light, I saw her eyes widen in disbelief at me, then she looked off into the darkness, heaving a sigh. She shook her head at me, “_I swear, my little lady, if you get caught in a drug deal, or God forbid, get hurt pursuing this drug, I will never forgive you! Stay away from it. We will figure something out. Until then, if you can get us a few more samples, perhaps four or five, if possible. Hopefully there will not be so many deaths from this drug, but if it is so… Until then, stay safe. Do not go after this drug_.”

  
Before I could reply she was off into the darkness, like a wisp of smoke. I took a deep breath, pausing a moment realizing, I really needed to figure out how to get a sample of the drug. 

>>-------->

I joined Geillis at the nurse’s station as my shift came to an end. Once again, she and Mrs. Fitz were discussing the local gossip.

“Well, he always did seem to spurn the idea of taking a place in his family company,” Mrs. Fitz said. “But to make a spectacle when his sister is announcing the new building for their science department. Tsk.”

“He apparently was drunk, too,” Geillis said, pointing to the bit in the article. I glanced over and could see a picture of Jamie, mid stumble, his collar and top few buttons undone. There was a calculated hardness in his eyes, not a drunken haze. His display was the exact opposite of the man who had seemed genuinely concerned over my situation with Fergus just the week previous. Though, I wasn’t about to share this information with Geillis or Mrs. Fitz. “I don’t see why he’d turn down a cushy job at his family company. So many people would kill for that kind of life security.”

“I don’t think he was getting his MBA on that island,” I commented wryly. 

Geillis looked up at that, shocked by my tone. Then she grinned suggestively. “Oh, didn’t mean to offend you, Claire. Are you and he mates now?” 

“No!” I turned from them, pretending to be busy with the leftover charting to file. My cheeks reddened. “I just think it’s unfair to place any such expectations on him. He’s barely been back for a month, and people are acting like he should be exactly as he was, as if five years in isolation doesn’t leave its mark on a person.”

I turned back to them. They both stared at me with raised eyebrows. I cleared my throat, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Overall, it’s not my business, or anyone else’s. I’m finished up here, so I will see you tomorrow.”

I made a hasty retreat, calling a cab to get home. 

Fergus was at the table, finishing up homework. He was up later than I’d like, but part of him agreeing to live with me was that I wouldn’t impede on his independence. He had to make do with his situation when his mother was alive and strung out, so I trusted him to stay on task what was important: his safety, health, and education. He would often be at his friends’ places or even mine when his mother relapsed and would have random, suspect people over. He knew how to take care of himself, and I had to have faith he’d continue doing that.

“Bonsoir, Madame Docteur,” Fergus greeted kindly. 

“Bonnuit,” I corrected. He glanced at the clock and startled. “Are you finished with your school work? Did you need help?”

“I was getting ahead, actually,” he said. He gathered his things and stuffed them haphazardly in his school bag. He headed straight to his room, issuing a last _bonnuit_!

I resisted going over to ask if he even ate dinner. I didn’t want to seem overbearing, as if I were trying to replace his mother. Fergus was a good kid, if a bit stubborn. He was a born survivor, but I still wanted to be sure to provide any resources he may need for the grieving process. Though he seemed to be processing it in the most British way possible – chin up and carry on.

I worried he might burst from the stamped down emotions.

>>---------->

“Lady Jane,” Doctor Joe Abernathy greeted with a warm smile. The bags under his eyes bore testament to the stress of the day. “Have you had any chance to see the news this evening?”

“Oh, Joe, I really hope you haven’t given in to gossip like a lot of the nurses,” I sighed, shaking my head at him. Joe was the very picture of professionalism, unless you got him talking about romance and fantasy. He could be the occasional gossip, as well. “You’re getting too soft in your old age.”

He huffed, “I’m exactly two years your senior, you whelp. Respect your elders!”

“I haven’t had the chance to check in with Geillis for the daily news. It was all surgeries today, and I’m doing a lot of my own charting as it’s too much for our too few interns,” I gestured to the pile of charts. “What have I missed?”

“Quite a bit, Lady Jay.” He hung up his coat and sat on the edge of my desk. “The vigilante has taken to beating up street thugs, apparently. We got two of his victims in the hospital today, but thankfully we didn’t need you to remove any arrows. The police have them guarded before they’ll be transported to lock up. Geillis almost strangled Larry -"

“Laoghaire,” I corrected. He’d never do that in front of anyone else.

“Same difference,” he waved me off. He took a deep breath then said rapidly, “Aaaaand… there’s going to be a fundraising event and you’re going to be my plus one.”

I froze. My eye twitched. He moved from my desk to his. He worked closely with the current Chief of Medicine, so he was often required to attend these types of events. I had a fine relationship with the Chief of Surgery, but she never required us to attend them. She hated hospital-social function herself. I was quite grateful for her reasoning, as that’s how I had met Frank in the first place. “Don’t you have a wife you can take to this?”

“She’s currently out of the country on some top-secret mission.” He sighed longingly. “It’s thrilling being married to Jane Bond, but I do hate when duty keeps her out of the city for weeks. I’m going crazy. She’s the one who said I should take you, by the way. I already informed Doctor Beaton.”

“Oh, no, no, no, Joe, do _not_ try to blame your wife when you already told Beaton I’d be going. I’m sure he clapped in glee to have another representative from surgery there, that isn’t Doctor Pond and her smart mouth,” I nearly hissed at him. He held his hands up, shrugging. 

“You said yourself, we have too few interns! There’s a whole wing of the hospital that isn’t in use due to lack of funding, and the board is considering shutting down the free clinic in the Glades. Next will be staffing cuts, and you know we are working on bare bones staff as it is. Why else would we keep Larry? Even Mrs. Fitz knows she isn’t a good fit, pun intended. We need these funds, Claire. And you, as much as you may deny or just be unaware, are a charmer. Or do you not recall the sizeable donation the Randalls made last time you went to one?” he winked. I glared at him. He was unintimidated.

I was already committed as soon as Joe told Beaton I would be going. He knew I wouldn’t leave him out to dry – or get soaked, as it were in this climate. “Fine. When is this event? I assume it's formal wear.”

He gave me a relieved grin, then grimaced. “It is. And it’s in two days.”

It took all my strength to not murder him on the spot.

>>---------->

Later into my shift, I managed to wrangle Geillis as _my_ plus one to the event. She normally wasn’t for such functions, either, but at my insistent begging she agreed. She would certainly help keep to Frank from spending all night by my side. He and his brother were some of the wealthiest people in the town. His brother, while known as a philanthropist, was hardly ever seen at such functions, sending Frank to represent their family estate. 

Geillis would also be the one to help me find a fitting outfit without spending too much. I wasn’t exactly lacking in funds, but my uncle did raise me to be thrifty. Plus, I did have a new mouth to feed, shelter, and maybe school tuition, if he so chose. I’d have to spend one of my days off shopping with her, and another working the event for donations. This wasn’t going to be a fun 3-day weekend.

I had one more task to accomplish before I called it a night at the hospital. Throughout the last few days we had more ODs come in, and I managed to grab five more samples for Master Raymond and Delphine. I was waiting for her on the stairs of the northwest exit. In the distance, I could hear the wail of sirens; its sounded like a raid – that wasn’t too far away.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of boots hitting the ground behind me. I startled and turned around, groping my pocket for mace that wasn’t there. I was greeted by the leather clad vigilante, breathing labored, bow in hand. Even hunched and clearly in some kind of distress, he was a large, imposing figure. 

“Here,” he said, altered voice strained. He held forth a double syringe with a neon green fluid, one full, the other half way. His hand trembled. 

“Oh God, have you been dosed?!” I gasped, rushing to him. My one hand took the double-syringe, placing it on the balustrade behind him; the other went to his face, his stubble covered jaw quivered. He was sweating profusely, and felt too hot to the touch. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, you have been! We must get you inside immediately!”

“My partner is… coming… will,” he struggled to form his words. “I will… go back…”

“You are not going anywhere!” I snapped. 

“_My little lady, who is your friend?_” Delphine walked up the steps from out of the shadows.

“It’s the vigilante,” I said, wanting to check his pupils, but he kept his head turned, hood pulled low over his eyes. I understood his need to keep his identity hidden, but this was his life! “He’s been dosed, I assume as much which is gone from the syringes he gave to me.”

I heard the sound of a van approach. If he wouldn’t let me examine him, then I’d just instruct his partner how. “You will not be leaving this hospital just yet, my lad. Delphine, will you help me assist him to one of the rooms?”

She put the syringes in a box in her pouch, then slung one of his arms over her shoulder as I got the other. I heard the slam of the van door and shuffling of feet over the asphalt. I called over my shoulder, just enough to be heard, “I’m taking him in to a room! Come in, and don’t turn on any overhead lights!”

Thankfully, the vigilante wasn’t dead weight, and we got him into one of the first rooms, laying him on the bed. I turned on a dim light that lined the wall. It was too risky for the ceiling lights, but this light would be sufficient. His partner walked in, wearing a balaclava and holding an empty cup with a pouch inside in one hand and a mortar and pestle in the other. 

“I’m going to grab a saline bag and set up an IV for him. We don’t know what constitutes an overdose just yet, but fluids are top priority right now. He’s sweating out his weight in water,” I told the joiner.

He nodded, then set the mortar and pestle on the counter, pulling out herbs from the pouch and grinding them up. He handed the cup out to Delphine, “I’ll need water!”

She looked at him like he spoke a foreign language to her – whichever one she didn’t know. 

“_Delphine, please, I have to go back to the main part of the hospital to get the saline bag_,” I pleaded. At that she nodded, took the cup and popped out. I headed straight to the nearest stock supply closet, as stealthily as I could. Thankfully this late most people were at stations doing shift change. I made it back without incident to find the vigilante drinking whatever concoction his friend had made. “What are you giving him?”

“I don’t rightly ken,” he replied, as gruff as he had been last time. “He says they counter most any poison, so I had it on me when he decided to take on the Vertigo dealer. Figured it’d come in handy.”

After the vigilante finished, he coughed then fell back on the bed, face still in the shadow of his hood. Delphine stood by the door, watching everything with an impassive face. I pulled the IV stand over to his bedside. “Do you happen to know how to run an IV line? I can do it, but that would involve removing his hood and jacket.”

“Aye,” he said. “It’s been some time since I’ve had to, but I can.”

“We’ll be outside,” I said, stepping out with Delphine and closing the door.

“_With this, Master Raymond may also be able to find where the Vertigo is being made_,” she said, patting her pouch. “_I hate to leave you with these mad men._”

“He got us what we needed, though,” I said, feeling defensive for him. My eyes stayed on the door.

“_How do you think he knew we needed this?_” I gave her a surprised look at her comment. She was smirking, as she started to walk off. “_You really should be more aware of your surroundings, my little lady._”

And then she was gone.

The door opened, allowing me back in. My patient lay with a blanket draped over the upper part of his exposed arm. I nodded in approval of the balaclava clad man's work on the IV line. “Do you work in the medical field?”

He kept his gaze on his partner. Chest rising and falling in short, quickened breaths. “I was a field medic, a long time ago.”

A military man. His stance and demeanor certainly showed that. It would make sense for the vigilante to partner with someone of that background. I was curious to know more, but knew he wouldn’t be answering my questions. They likely weren’t his secrets to tell, and I’d rather hear from the hooded man himself if ever chose to.

“I need to pop over to the main area to clock out officially. I’ll be right back. No one really comes down this way, but just stay in here, and again, do not turn on any other lights.” He merely nodded in response before I slipped out.

After wrapping up in my office, in record time, I rang Fergus to let him know I’d be much later than usual. When I got back to my patient’s room, his partner had not moved an inch. The vigilante's breathing was still shallow and rapid. His legs were starting to thrash. I pulled in a monitor and leads, “Do you want to attach these leads to his chest? I know there are some restraints down the hall for his legs. I will fetch them while you do that.”

He nodded and got straight to work. I came back with the restraints, two for the legs, two for the arms so he didn’t pull out the IV line. Witnessing the effects of this drug on him, I wondered why anyone would want to take Vertigo. It seemed more like torture than a way to get high, but then drugs effect people differently. The only time I had partaken in recreational marijuana I had the worst panic attack of my life. 

We stood side by side in silence. Finally, needing something to call him, I offered my hand, “I’m Doctor Claire Beauchamp. What can I call you?”

He hesitated a moment, then took my hand. “For now, ye can call me Sergeant.”

I nodded and another few moments passed in silence as we watched our patient sweat out in the throes of the drug. I hoped whatever herbs he took would do the job that nothing else so far could. 

“Thank you,” Sergeant said quietly. I simply nodded.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this, I may end up starting my first side story to supplement this arc. No ETA on that, though.
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving comments! I really appreciate it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fundraising event happens, and an alliance is formalized. Also, Geillis might finally meet Jenny Fraser-Murray!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry whatever you celebrate!
> 
> My other major fandom kinda leaked into this one, but not a crossover. Just needed a name, because I have plans for the obvious canon Outlander character.
> 
> Thanks again to Janmarie for beta reading this! Your help is tremendous.

“His vitals seem to be normal now,” I said. “He’s lasted longer than anyone I’ve seen brought in on Vertigo. I think he’s through the worst of it.”

Sergeant nodded. “I’ll pull up the van. Would you be able to help me carry him out?”

I nodded. When he returned, I gave him the privacy to detach the leads and IV line before we rolled the vigilante’s bed toward the exit. I grabbed the legs, he took the upper torso, and we carefully hauled him to the van.

“Is he determined to take down the Vertigo dealer?” I asked as we carefully navigated the stairs.

“Aye,” he grunted. The van door was open, its light the nearest light to be guided by. The vigilante grunted in his unconscious state as we heaved him into the van. He lay still.

“Well,” I said, pulling a small piece of paper from my pocket and scribbling my number down – the one for the mobile Master Raymond gave me. “My friend took the Vertigo to someone who may not only be able to develop a counter acting agent but also be able to pinpoint where it’s being made. This number is to an encrypted phone. I assume yours are, too - if you have any?”

“Uh… Er…” he shuffled his feet. “I’m not a tech guy, ye see. I ken we use burners, but encryption and the like, I haven’t the slightest.”

I was taken aback by that. “_What_? Ok, look, here’s the number you can reach me on regarding this business. Please call if there’s a change to his condition. I can let you know what my friend finds out about the Vertigo. I’ll also ask him about getting the two of you some _encrypted_ mobiles. Burners are still too risky for what you two do. He is the best at what he does so it’ll be top notch security.”

He took a step back from the proffered paper. “Why are you doing this, lass? Helping us?”

“If you and he want to take down the Vertigo scourge then I absolutely want to help. I have seen enough people die from this synthetic drug. It’s affected people I care for in the worst ways.”

He nodded, taking the paper. “It’s too late to call a cab. I will take ye to your place.”

“Thank you.”

I directed him to my building, though he seemed to almost anticipate my directions. He didn’t pull away from the curb until I was in the building. It was nearing 4am when I finally entered my flat. Exhaustion hit me like a truck the minute I pulled off my coat. I was dead asleep by the time I fell onto my bed.

>>--------->

The hospital fundraising event was utterly humdrum. Doctor Beaton, a stout man with a falsely kind face, was trying to get me involved in every conversation with potential and past donors. I finally detached from a conversation regarding the newest arcane energy investment prospects and joined Geillis at the table.

“Nice to see ye, finally,” she remarked. “I see Beaton is ecstatic to have a surgeon not named Doctor Pond here. Though, I’d like if he didn’t hog you. What am I supposed to do here? Speak with Laoghaire when Mrs. Fitz can’t keep her company?”

“Well, I’m here as Joe’s plus one, so I’ve been with him and Beaton. You’re here as _my_ plus one, you could have just joined us.” I took a sip of sparkling water. I decided to abstain from the Champaign as I didn’t get a chance for a full meal during the day. The hors d'oeuvres they served at these functions were only ever so-so and absolutely not filling.

“And listen to all you sassenachs discuss politics and money?” she shook her head. 

“Beaton is Scottish, and I have it on good authority I’m your favorite sassenach.”

“Oh, you are! But when the rich English are around, Beaton pretends he’s still in London. And as much as I do adore Joe, I don’t really care to hear his American opinions. Why not have some local rich donors, who aren’t Grants, Campbells, or Sinclairs?”

All three families mentioned had recently been visited by the vigilante. 

“I think you just want to see Janet Fraser, don’t you?”

She sighed, “God yes! Lord knows she’s got the money, and I hear she’s really involved with a lot of charities. Certainly, a donation to the inner-city hospital would be on her agenda?”

I was just about to answer when I saw Jamie enter the event room on the other side from our tables. He was dressed in a formal suit, with a smart black tie. Next to him was another man in a navy-blue suit, I recognized him as Jamie’s other companion at his return home party. Murtagh was just behind them also in a sharp suit, hair and beard well groomed. 

“Well, you might just get your wish.” 

She turned around, “Oh wow. I hope she will be here and isn’t just sending her brother in her stead.”

Jamie’s other companion was talking to him. Jamie had a tight-lipped smile on his face, seeming amenable yet his stance was stiff. His thumb and forefinger rubbed together. His friend patted him on the back then headed to the bar, returning with three flutes of bubbly. They had barely had a sip before Beaton was approaching them.

“Well, if there’s a chance to see her, this might be it,” I told her. “Beaton is on the hunt.”

“He’s gonna scare them away then she’ll never come by!” Geillis pouted.

Joe approached us. He nodded towards Beaton and his newest would-be donors, “Beaton wants us to talk with Mr. Fraser and his brother-in-law.”

Geillis looked heart broken. I patted her shoulder in sympathy. “Well, she may not be available or here yet, but if she does arrive do you not want to be where she would go? Join us, Geilie, c'mon.”

She followed us over, plastering on a professional, warm smile. Joe had an easy going, welcoming smile. I hoped I emulated such. It would be a genuine, kind smile for Jamie and Murtagh, even their friend, but in Beaton’s presence, smiling was a chore.

“Ah, Mister Fraser, Mister Murray, here are two of our best, our absolute best!” Beaton was back to his normal Glaswegian accent amongst fellow Scots. “This handsome man is Doctor Joe Abernathy. He's from Boston!”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” he said, heartily shaking their hands. He didn’t bother to correct Beaton. Joe attended pre-med in Boston but was actually from Chicago. He had a Bears flag hanging behind his desk.

“And this is the most lovely Doctor Claire Beauchamp! She’s one of our best surgeons, and she’s single,” he winked. I was appalled. My cheeks flushed in anger. He mistook it for a blush. “She’s not usually shy.”

Geillis cleared her throat, the look in her eye like she was about to murder him. Her smile didn’t deviate, though.

“Oh, this is one of our many great nurses, uh-"

“Geillis Duncan, thank ye,” she shook Mister Murray’s hand. With intent to needle Beaton, she smiled up at Jamie, “Pleased to see _you_ again, Mister Fraser.”

“Aye, Nurse Duncan, same as ye. Please, call me Jamie,” he nodded. He looked at me, his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. His eyes flicked over my forest green, pleated lottie dress with flutter sleeves. “Always a pleasure to see ye, Claire.”

Beaton was speechless, which was likely best for everybody. 

“What an honor to have you attend,” Joe said. His easy-going nature in these settings made me wonder how he thought I was beneficial here at all. He had been charming people out of their wallets all night. 

“Will your sister be making an appearance?” Geillis interrupted him. 

“She’s been a little under the weather, so it’s me, Ian, and Murtagh to represent Fraser Consolidated. She sends her regards of course,” Jamie answered. “And ‘tis our pleasure, Doctor Abernathy. Er, all of you, I mean.”

His companion spoke up finally, “We look forward to hearing more about your hospital. My wife kens the work your free clinic does in the Glades. She’s very interested in helping your efforts.”

As he spoke, Jamie’s rubbing fingers seemed to accelerate, almost causing a fire. His shoulders tensed again. 

“Of course, of course!” Beaton had re-gathered himself. “We have so much to tell you! But have you also met Mr. Pearce?” he waved over another would be donor I had the displeasure of talking to before. Introductions were again made, and quickly conversation turned to business and money. Geillis looked bored to death despite the professional smile she maintained. Joe was as charming as ever in the conversation. I maintained a professional demeanor, _hmm_-ing and nodding at the right intervals, but my attention was mostly on Jamie.

While Mr. Murray was well engrossed in the conversation and Murtagh seemed to be playing the part of body guard, Jamie stood tense. His fingers had not stopped rubbing together. His shoulders were taught and despite his polite smile, seemed like he could snap like a bowstring. No one else seemed to be aware that he absolutely did not want to be there. 

Just as Mister Pearce turned the conversation to the benefits of further privatizing healthcare, I decided it was time to take my leave before I ended up acting like the very opinionated Doctor Pond. I put a hand on Jamie’s arm. His attention turned to me immediately. I said quietly to him, “I’m rather parched, would you join me at the bar?”

“Aye, of course.” He excused us from the conversation. Mister Pearce didn’t even pause. Beaton, the bloody bastard, seemed gleeful to see me walk away with Jamie. Geillis looked at me pleadingly to get her out as well, but I thought Jamie needed it more than she. 

Doctor Pond was at the bar, refilling her glass. I couldn’t resist a mischievous grin; I knew how to get back at Beaton for his inappropriate comment. “Doctor Pond, lovely to see you this evening. This is James Fraser. Jamie, this is Chief of Surgery, Doctor Melody Pond.”

Doctor Pond turned to us with a genuine, exuberant smile. She took a sip of her campaign and replied, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fraser. Doctor Beauchamp, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Blame, Joe. He’s talking with Beaton, Geillis, and Mr. Pearce. I broke away when Mr. Pearce decided to expound on the merits of further privatizing healthcare. I thought you’d like to take the opportunity to go tell him how wrong he is, and make Beaton sweat a bit.”

“Sweetie, you know I’d never miss such an opportunity,” she answered with an impish grin. She headed over to their group. I was deeply satisfied to see Beaton’s brow glisten with nervous sweat when he saw her approach. 

“Will ye have a flute of Champaign?” Jamie asked me as I turned back to him.

“Oh, no, thank you. I just wanted to get away from Mr. Pearce's wrong opinions. It looked like you didn’t want to be there, either,” I said with a chuckle. I requested another sparkling water from the bar keep. 

Jamie chuckled as well, getting another flute for himself. “I appreciate it, Claire. I’m, uh, not yet _fully_ up to these types of gatherings.”

I recalled he didn’t really seem up to his own party, but didn’t think to point it out just yet. I merely nodded and shrugged. “It is a good cause. The hospital needs funds. Seems, though, Mister Murray could have solely attended on your sister’s behalf.”

“Aye, well, I _wanted_ to attend. I felt bad for the ground breaking ceremony.” He looked at me, sheepishly. I nodded for him to continue. “I haven’t been on the best terms with my sister since my return. Not even with Ian, that’s Mister Murray there. He was… is uh, has been my best friend since my childhood.”

“I’m sorry for that, Jamie,” I said, putting a hand on one of his crossed arms. “I can’t imagine it's anywhere near easy to re-acclimate.”

He nodded. “She wants me to take a place at the company. I didn’t major in business at any of the four schools I flunked out of. I just don’t know what I want yet, that I’m back. Ach, sorry, Claire. I dinna mean to rant.”

“It's OK, Jamie, I’m always here to listen. She probably just wants to make sure you’ll be secure going forward, but it’s not like you spent those five years getting an MBA at Oxford. If it’s not too intrusive to ask, what has you so tense around Ian? I understand the strain with your sister, but I’d hope your childhood best friend would be more than willing and patient to help you reintegrate?”

Seeming surprised, he smiled, “Am I so easy to read?”

“Well, you seemed tense every time he spoke directly to you.” I grabbed his hand, his fingers no longer rubbing. “You rub your fingers furiously; it must be a tick of some sort.”

He looked down at our joined hands. Suddenly self-conscious of the forward touch, I let his go. He sighed, and nodded. “I, er, I wasn’t the best of men before the island, ye ken. My father was a good man. Great, really. He loved one woman and never strayed. I wasn’t so. Ian would join me at the clubs, going home with different women almost every night. I’m not proud of it, Claire. When I came back to find them married, I was shocked. I’m furious, really.”

“No offense, Jamie, but just as they can’t expect you to be the same after five years, you can’t expect they would be either. I don’t know your sister, of course, but I do hear she’s a very sensible and successful businesswoman. Do you not trust your sister’s judgement?”

Before he could answer, a familiar, posh English voice said my name. Jamie took a step back from me, his face blank and eyes narrowing at Frank who was just behind me. My professional smile slid back into place, or so I hoped as I turned to him. 

“Frank, hello,” I greeted in as congenial a tone as manageable. Frank was stiff, his eyes narrowed back at Jamie. I gestured toward Jamie. “This is James Fraser. Jamie, this is Frank Randall of The Randall Foundation.”

“We are acquainted,” Frank said. “We ran in some of the same circles before his unfortunate accident and miraculous return. Pleasure to see you again, James.”

Jamie merely nodded. The silence was brief. Awkward.

“Jamie!” Laoghaire approached from Jamie's other side. I had nearly forgotten she was attending. She sidled up next to Jamie, crowding him against the bar. He stiffened. 

His fingers began rubbing, again. 

Thankfully, my encrypted phone pinged with a notification. I excused myself from the group, stepping away to read the text.

_Madonna, the phones will be delivered to you later tonight. You know where_.

I could kiss Master Raymond for giving me a reason to leave early. I would need to bolt as soon as possible to make it back to the hospitals northwest wing. I texted a reply of gratitude, ready to depart immediately. A soft hand at my elbow pulled my attention. Frank stood just by me, steering me farther from a closed off Jamie and a moon-eyed Laoghaire.

“Claire, are you alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Of course, Frank,” I said, only mildly confused at his look. I put my phone away and put a hand to my forehead. “I must admit I am feeling a little under the weather, though. The beginnings of a migraine, I think.”

He looked skeptical, but nodded. “Of course, Claire. I can see you out. I’m sure talking to Mr. Fraser was the beginning of your ailment.”

He had walked us a few paces toward the exit when I stopped abruptly at his comment. “Whatever do you mean?”

He pressured my arm, meaning to press us on. I acquiesced a few steps before stopping stubbornly. He glanced back at Jamie, still looking stiff and awkward by an oblivious, chatty Laoghaire. He was looking at us - his face blank, absent any warmth I usually saw in his eyes.

“I am sorry, Claire,” he said with a small sigh. “I know you are a capable woman. I’m sorry we didn’t work out. I want us to be friends. But when I see you with that man, that _cad_, I feel the worst sensation in my stomach. He was a man who had no care for anything. Not for if a woman was taken or sober, I didn’t want you to be subject to such a man.”

His concern touched me, but I still bristled. As he said, I knew what was best for me. And I wouldn’t let his prejudices color how I interacted with Jamie. 

“Thank you for your concern, but I will be alright. I really must go now. Goodnight, Frank.” 

I left him to go say a quick goodnight to Joe, Geillis, and Doctor Pond. Geillis looked desperate to join me, but she ended up being dragged into a conversation with a potential donor at the behest of Mrs. Fitz. I had hoped to say my final farewell to Jamie, but when I saw him again, he was crowded by several other attendees and hospital staff, much to Laoghaire’s apparent dismay. I did catch Murtagh's eye however, and gave him a small wave. He nodded slightly in return. Then I slipped out, pulling my phone from my bag to text Sergeant, and hail a cabbie.

>>---------->

I found the phones in an unmarked box on the stoop of the shuttered wing. There was a note from Delphine, explaining she couldn’t stay, she had business to attend elsewhere. She said she would be back in the UK by the new year, possibly sooner if all went well. Inside the box was also another voice scrambler, as I had also requested, for Sergeant. I could hear a van pull into the dark lot, its lights off.

“Sergeant said you had more secure mobiles for us.”

Despite _knowing_ one or both of them would be approaching, the vigilante’s modulated voice startled me. I turned to see him standing by the other balustrade. I hadn’t even heard him approach or leave the van – if that was even how he arrived. I stayed on my side of the landing, holding the box to my chest. “Yes, I do.”

“And where does a doctor in the Glades come by such technology? Did you double major in computer sciences?” his tone sounded light but his stiff posture revealed his suspicion.

“There’s a man I know – I have known him all my life – he is the best when it comes to any technology. I trust him with this. I trust him with my life.”

He was considering my answer. I didn’t know what I would do if he refused the help. I understood his need for caution, but this would be a monumental help to him and Sergeant. I was anxious for his acceptance.

“Ye saved my life,” he said softly.

“Sergeant brought those herbs, actually,” I tried to correct him.

“I trust ye with _my_ life,” he pressed on. “I thank ye for that. Sergeant also said your friend could develop a counter drug for the vertigo and find where it’s being made.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “He’s a genius.”

“I had said I wouldna bother ye again after the first time ye mended me. I didna want ye to be caught up in this. It’s _my mission_. Why can’t your friend contact me directly if he means to help?”

“Like you, he is a man of secrets. He’s helping at _my_ request.” I suddenly remembered what Delphine pointed out the other night. “How did you know I needed the Vertigo sample, anyway?”

Surely it was a trick of the light, but for a moment his shoulders dropped as if in contrition. Then he stood up straight and stepped towards me. His height and breadth would certainly be intimidating, but I stood my ground. 

“There are a lot of secrets in this matrix of illegal drugs,” he said, “I have my own. So does your friend, and even yourself, Sassenach.”

“I should hope being a _sassenach_ isn’t reason enough to be at the end of an arrow,” I glared up at him. His face was mostly obscured by the shadow of the hood, but I could see one corner of his mouth quirk up.

“Never, Sassenach,” he said, his tone softened. “But if you’re to correspond with us, even over secure lines, I canna be calling ye Doctor Claire Beauchamp.”

He held his hand out for the box. I smiled triumphantly as I gave it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Geillis ever get to meet Jenny Fraser? I'm almost tempted to make sure she won't. Depends on how she behaves.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> PS. If you're already an Arrowverse on CW fan, what did you think of the first 3 parts of Crisis On Infinite Earths? I'm so stoked on it. Can't wait for the finale two installments. Ya'll should get into it if you aren't already; if you like comic book type stuff, anyway.


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